your eyes look like coming home
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: "Oh my god, Godric, she's perfect." :: Or in which Rowena teaches cooking classes and one day Helga gets tired of always eating takeout and leftovers. For Clover, modern!au.


Written for Hogwarts' Home Economics Assignment: Write about one of the following witches preparing a meal with magic for a romantic interest - Helga Hufflepuff, the Around the World Event: Lebanon - Trope: Love At First Sight, the Writing Club - Count Your Buttons: Chef!AU, (word) impressive, (object) gingerbread, Amber's Attic - The Chariot: Write about a situation where hard work pays off.

Also for Clover, who asked for HelgaRowena.

 _Word count:_ 3295

* * *

 **your eyes look like coming home**

The ad is so unexceptionable that Helga's eyes almost pass right past it.

She's not even really sure _what_ draws her in, in the end — maybe it's the mouth-watering pictures of perfectly cooked food, or maybe it's the cute font used for the truly cheesy slogan ('Raven's Classes, we'll teach you how to make your tastebuds fly'). Helga works in marketing, she can appreciate a well-made ad.

She jots down the relevant information as she waits for her train, and she muses over it all day. When she gets back home that night and finds herself staring at an empty fridge, Godric handing her takeout menus with an unconcerned smile as he sets up the console for their weekly game night, her mind is made up: she needs these lessons.

Godric curses as he trips over the sofa and bags his shins against the table, and she changes her mind: _they_ need lessons.

She calls the number on the ad the next morning during her break and signs them up for the debutant classes.

* * *

"Remind me why I'm here again?" Godric asks grumpily as he ties on the apron they'll need for the class.

"You're here because I asked you to be here," Helga replies with an eye roll as she ties her own apron. "Because you're a good friend, and I'm tired of eating greasy pizza every other night."

"Hey! We had Chinese last time," Godric protests, but any further argument is silenced by Helga rolling her eyes at him again.

Godric stays silent but pouting until they walk to their assigned workstation. Luckily, they're supposed to work in pairs, so Helga can stick with Godric for this, which is how they end up side by side again, eyeing what has got to be the most impressive set of knives Helga's ever seen.

"Remind me why you couldn't just ask Sal to go with you again?" Godric whispers, gulping as he takes in how sharp the blades look.

"I couldn't ask Sal because the last time I asked him to socialize and do something he didn't want to, you ended up paying bail," Helga replies dryly. "But look at the bright side — now you'll get to cook him a nice meal once in awhile!"

Godric winces, undoubtedly remembering that particular debacle — it had been a fun day though, at least until they had gotten arrested.

Though jail had arguably been an interesting experience.

"Right, let's not do that again."

Any further discussion is tabled though, because at that moment their instructor walks in and Helga is _gone_.

She grabs Godric's arm and squeezes tight, eyes stuck on the godly figure of the woman who's going to be teaching them, and _oh my god, Godric was right, this was a terrible idea_.

"Godric, she's perfect," she keens. Rowena has a jewel-shaped face framed with ebony hair through which Helga just longs to run her hands and eyes as dark as a moonless night, and Helga's knees turn weak as she stares, unable to avert her eyes.

"Helga, no," her friend replies, with that self-suffering tone he gets whenever she does something he disapproves of. "You don't even know her name."

As if on cue, the chef introduces herself with a tight smile. "I'm Rowena Ravenclaw — you can call me Chef Ravenclaw."

Helga's words catch in her throat and all that comes out of her voice is a high pitched sound. "Rowena." She says it like it's a caress, rolling the word in her mouth, tasting it. "Godric, I think I'm in love."

"Oh boy."

* * *

Rowena's arrival on the scene gives Helga new motivation to succeed in this course.

"I'm going to woo her with my culinary skills, just you watch," she whispers violently at Godric, who watches her in alarm as she fiddles with the stove.

"Er, Helga, I'm not sure that's a good idea," he mumbles with panic.

"Psh, all of my ideas are good ideas," Helga retorts.

"I'm pretty sure the whole point of this was that you had _no_ culinary skills," Godric says.

Helga scoffs, offended. "Salazar's been rubbing off on you. You never used to be so rude before the two of you got together."

Godric leers salaciously, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh, _that_ he certainly has been."

"Ugh, I did _not_ need to know this, Godric," Helga says with a disgusted grimace. Even though she couldn't be happier for him, she considers Godric as something of a brother, and while she loves him, she'll draw the line at hearing about what he and his boyfriend get up in the bedroom.

"Well, I didn't need to know how much you wanted to climb our instructor," he retorts, slicing vegetables a little too vehemently.

Helga gasps. "What- When did I say that? I never said that. _Godric!_ " she hisses.

Godric stares at her pointedly. "You didn't have to say it — I know you, and you thought about it so hard I could see it on your face."

Helga sputtered, cheeks burning red. "I _did not_."

Godric simply kept staring at her as she flailed.

"Ugh, I _hate_ you."

"No, you don't — who else is gonna be there to veto your dinner plans with 'Rowena'?"

Helga wanted to protest, but, well, Godric had a point. She will need his help — she's hopeless at that kind of thing on her own. She overstresses about every little detail until she works herself into a panic attack, and if she's to have dinner with this perfect, beautiful woman, she can't afford one of those.

" _Fine_ ," she replies bitingly, fingers clenched tightly around her knife. "What do you think I should do then?"

Godric huffs a laugh. "Well, I'd start with today's lesson, don't you think? If you can manage not to drool on everything we make as you stare at her arms, that is."

"But just look at them," Helga moans quietly, nodding at what can only be described as a work of the gods. "How am I supposed not to stare? And don't you even start," she adds bitingly as Godric opens his mouth. "I know how much worse you'd be if it was Salazar up there."

Godric's cheeks flush red, thus proving her point.

"And anyway, I can so focus," she states. She's aware that it makes her sound like a five-year-old, but she also does not care.

She's got this — she's going to be the best amateur cook this class has ever seen.

* * *

At the next session, Helga drags Godric to the workstation closest to Rowena. From there, she has a perfect view of the way her fingers move so gracefully as she picks up food or handles a knife, and Helga falls a little more in love with everything she sees.

"It's so nice to see such an eager student," Rowena even tells her as she passes by their table at the end of the lesson, checking on their finished product — the dish doesn't look anywhere near as pretty as the one Rowena made, but Helga and Godric tasted it and it was delicious.

Godric chuckles as Helga, tongue-tied, blushes furiously. "My friend here is a fan of your work," he says, in a way that makes it clear he's not talking about Rowena's work at all. Helga wants to die.

She'd glare at Godric but Rowena smiles and Helga just can't tear her eyes away. She feels like her heart is about to beat its way out of her chest, trying to leap toward this woman who stole it at first glance.

"Well, that's very nice of her, then," Rowena replies. She turns to go, offering Helga another of her rare but blinding smiles, when Helga finally finds her voice.

"Thank you," she blurts out. "You're amazing."

Godric's shoulders are shaking in the way they always do when he's silently laughing — a skill Helga has wished she had on more than one occasion — but for once Helga doesn't pay him any mind.

Not when Rowena's smiling at her again.

This smile looks different though — if she thought her previous smiles were luminous, this one just outshines them all. It's like Helga is directly looking at the sun, and for the first time, she understands how Icarus could have flown so high despite his father's warnings.

She too would ignore all caution if it meant getting closer to such radiance for even one more moment.

Rowena does leave after that, drawn to her other students, but Helga's heart doesn't calm down.

"Well, looks like you might have a shot at this after all," Godric whispers in her ear, laughing. Helga startles so badly she sprays flour all over their counter.

She doesn't care, mind too full of Godric's words. "What do you mean?"

Her friend's grin widens, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Something tells me that our good teacher is not entirely indifferent to your charms."

* * *

Waiting for the cooking sessions to end is torture after that announcement — because if there's one thing Helga refuses to be, it's that cliché girl who sleeps with her instructor.

She's already enough of a cliché after falling in love with her, she's not going to add fuel to the fire by doing something that is probably at best morally ambiguous.

She does quickly realize that Godric was right, though — Rowena does seem to like her. She spends more time at their station than she does at any other (though not by much, because Rowena is a professional and work comes first, which Helga can understand and even appreciates). Every time she's here, she addresses Helga rather than Godric and leaves with one of her blindingly bright smiles, dark eyes mischievous and warm.

But Helga also doesn't forget her real goal — to get good enough to cook for Rowena on their first date, which will be happening _as soon as these lessons are over_. She works hard at this — so hard that Godric even has to ban her from the kitchen, because apparently they'll never be able to eat everything she makes if she doesn't slow down a bit.

It does impress Rowena though, which was really all that Helga was going for.

As a benefit, Helga also discovers that she does like to cook. It's soothing, in a way, how ingredients combine in somewhat precise ways to form complex meals that are so much better than their primary ingredients.

She and Rowena bound over this, of course, and the only way Helga could be any happier would be if she could finally ask Rowena out on that date.

* * *

Helga doesn't expect it, but she almost cries right before their last lesson. Godric stares at her like she's mad, patting her back mechanically. He has no idea what's going on.

But it just hit her, that's all, that if Rowena didn't agree to go out with her, they'd probably never see each other again. Rowena would be the one that got away, the girl she and Godric reminisce about drunkenly, and that will be that.

Helga really doesn't want that to happen.

She lingers at the end of the lesson. Her food has been the worst it's ever been since she first came in, and Rowena eyes her with concern. "Is everything alright?" she asks.

Helga would have smiled if not for the nerves eating at her stomach. "No. I mean yes. I mean, will you please go out with me? For dinner. Soon."

She's a trainwreck and her face is probably as hot as the sun right now, but Rowena does say yes without any hesitation.

"Awesome!" Helga grins back so hard her cheeks hurt. "Saturday okay for you? I'll text you the address."

She's halfway across the room when Rowena clears her throat loudly. "Helga," she calls out, amused.

"Yes?" Helga yelps, stopping so quickly she almost trips.

"You don't have my number."

"Oh, right, I should probably get on that. I- Just wait a moment, I'm sure I have a pen somewhere…" She searches through her pockets before she remembers that she already put everything away and that she saw Godric leave with her things.

The one time his gallantry is not something she appreciates, and it has to be now.

Rowena laughs. "If you have five minutes, you could escort me outside. I'll give you my number then." Her eyes sparkle and her thin lips pull up into a teasing smile.

Helga's heart skips a beat and she nearly gives herself whiplash she nods so fast.

The atmosphere feels oddly charged as they walk together, Helga watching closely as Rowena locks up behind them. Her fingers twitch with the need to hold, but Helga's nowhere near that bold — that would be Godric's department.

Instead, she inhales deep breaths, quietly savoring the moment. Rowena keeps a steady stream of conversion going, which is how she learns where Rowena's last name came from — apparently one of her ancestors used to raise ravens to carry out letters and got quite famous for it.

She's in the middle of telling a funny anecdote about herself at age ten trying to tame her own raven like in those stories when she hands Helga her phone. Their fingers graze, the contact electric.

Helga enters her number with trembling fingers, and returns the phone with a smile. "Now you just have to text me, and I'll have your number."

Helga doesn't really know why she said it — of course Rowena would already know what to do — but now that she has, she can't take it back. She watches with poorly hidden eagerness as Rowena types a short message, just a simple 'Hi, this is Rowena!'.

It's so ordinary, and yet when her phone vibrates in her pocket, it feels like so much more.

"Thank you," she says.

They hover there, slightly awkward for a few moments, before Helga huffs a laugh. "I'll see you on Saturday, then?"

Rowena nods, grinning. "I'll be waiting for that text."

There's another pause then, another charged moment where neither women are quite sure of how to act — should they kiss now or just leave?

In the end, they leave.

Helga finds Godric waiting for her by the car. "Had fun?" He smirks.

Helga swats his arm."Oh, hush you," she says, but she's too happy for her tone to get anywhere near properly annoyed.

For some reason, this only makes Godric laughs. "Hey, I'm happy for you, Helga — you deserve this."

Touched, Helga smiles back softly. "Thank you."

* * *

For dinner, Helga finally decides on homemade pasta. She worries incessantly that it's too simple, but as Godric reminds her whenever she starts to panic, she does know how to make this now, and Rowena had liked the dish when she had tasted it during that class.

"Next time I get a brilliant idea like cooking for an actual chef, hit me, alright?" she grumbles at Godric as she frets around the kitchen. Everything is ready but yet it feels like nothing is, and it's terrifying.

"It's going to be fine," Godric replies, rolling his eyes. He rests a comforting hand on her forearm, halting her pacing. "Stop worrying about it or you won't get to enjoy your date — who, by the way, should be here in less than an hour."

Helga's blood freezes in her veins. "An _hour_? But I'm not ready!"

"That's why you still have an hour," Godric says soothingly. "And me — I'll set up the table while you change, and then I'm off to Sal's so you can have the place all to yourself." He wiggles his eyebrows, looking ridiculous, and Helga feels some of the tension leave her.

"Alright, I can do this — I can totally do this."

"That's the spirit!" Godric laughs before ushering her into her bedroom and closing the door behind her. "Now get dressed for your date — you've got flour everywhere."

She really did too. Looking in her floor-length mirror, Helga can see the pale streaks of white flour standing out against her dark skin. She winces. Godric really is right — she needs to change.

But first, a shower.

* * *

The date goes really well, even if Rowena was startled at first by the idea of Helga cooking for her.

Startled, but pleased.

"I'm sorry if it's not really up to your standards," Helga apologizes as she brings the food. "But, er, I guess I just wanted to do something nice. For you."

Rowena's answering smile is so soft Helga can feel her insides melt.

"You know," she says, stabbing her fork at her food, "that no one ever made me dinner before? Not since my parents, I mean — and certainly not anything romantic like this."

"I- Really?" Helga frowns. "Why ever not?"

Rowena smiles wryly. "I guess they must have thought that as a chef I was used to a certain quality of food and wouldn't appreciate the effort. Which," she says, casting another smile at Helga, "is utter rubbish, of course." She winks. "I really do appreciate the effort. Trying really is the most important part, and the most one can ask."

Helga nods mutely. "It still doesn't seem fair," she says after drinking some water. "You don't- You shouldn't have to… I just mean, I think you deserve everything."

Rowena's fork rakes over her empty plate. Looking down, Helga notices that her plate is equally empty.

Rowena laces their fingers together over the table, her eyes soft as they gaze into Helga's. "Thank you," she breathes, voice tight with emotion. "You deserve everything too."

She licks her lips and straightens up, smile turning wicked. "Now, I seem to remember something about a dessert…."

Helga huffs out a laugh. She feels a little awkward standing up, almost like she's drunk, even though she only had one glass of wine. "It'll be right back."

If she was anxious about the pasta, it's nothing compared to how she feels about her dessert — but Rowena mentioned it once, and it turns out that it was also the one pastry Helga already know how to make, so there was no way she could resist.

"Ta-dah," Helga says laughingly as she sets a plate full of gingerbread cookies on the table. She returns seconds later with two tall glasses of milk. "Dessert."

Rowena's eyes twinkle as she laughs. "Oh, this is perfect." She selects a cookie and bites into it. She moans as she swallows and Helga chokes on her own bite.

"I didn't teach you this," Rowena notes once Helga's no longer dying.

"No, you didn't," Helga replies with a sly smile as she takes another cookie and dips it into her milk. "My mother did actually — it's pretty much the only thing she ever managed to teach me how to make."

"Well then, in that case, I guess I have your mother to thank for this delightful treats."

Helga laughs. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

They take turns telling stories after that. At one point, Helga pretends one of her cookies comes alive and tries to escape getting eaten — it's a game she used to play when she was longer, but it's just as fun now as it was then.

And it makes Rowena laugh so hard she cries.

They fight over the last cookie and Rowena wins so easily Helga is almost tempted to say that she cheated, just to see what she'd do with the accusation.

But then she asks for a kiss as her prize and Helga no longer cares.

Rowena's lips taste like sugar and cinnamon, but her mouth tastes like heaven and coming home.


End file.
